


angst prompts

by garbage man pj (garbagemen)



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: Angst, Drabble Collection, F/F, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-22 01:28:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9575837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garbagemen/pseuds/garbage%20man%20pj
Summary: some prompt fills for danganronpa. will be added to, when i write more. angst ahead.





	1. You can't move on from something that wasn't supposed to end.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sakura mourns, not for someone else's death but for her own.

You can't move on from something that wasn't supposed to end.

You have tried. You have tried so hard, for her sake. But every time you see her it's as if she's doing the opposite, clutching your memory desperately in her mind. If you could grab her shoulders, shake her and beg her to find another girl and _forget you,_ you would do it in a heartbeat--but she doesn't forget. She doesn't move on. And, therefore, neither can you.

The others cannot understand. Death has not torn them from love the way it has you. Of course they have felt loss, but Celeste and Kirigiri were no more than a fling, Ishimaru and Mondo were only separated for a matter of days--and you can tell Sayaka and Leon both miss Naegi, but at least they have each other, whatever their relationship is. But you...you have lost something that you never expected to go away. When your boyfriend died you never thought you'd feel so much pain again. This is worse. You have to watch her grieve for you. Her pain hurts you more than your own.

It has been 5 years now since you died. The reconstruction of society has begun, slowly but surely. Sometimes you see the murderer Junko wandering aimlessly about the afterlife and almost pity her. She is lost, weak, will never find happiness for the rest of eternity. You wish that didn't remind you painfully of yourself. 

Asahina is the gym teacher at the new Hope's Peak Academy. She doesn't quite know how to run the weight machines properly, and you cringe when she tries to explain to students how to use them. She's going to get somebody's arm snapped. You wish you could correct her, "no, Hina, you can't put the pin in when the weights are already lifted off the ground", and it's such a mundane idea that you almost laugh. You've clearly become too much of a bodybuilder.

She's still a wonderful swimmer, though. Of course she is. It was the pool that gave you your favorite memory of her, back when you were students together. Before everything went wrong. You'd been sitting beside the pool late at night, still damp and smelling of chlorine. She was wearing ripped shorts and a baggy shirt that clung in places to her thick arms and chest. Her legs trailed in the water. You could hear only the slap of the waves of the sides of the pool and the chirping crickets outside.

_"Sakura?"_

_"Yes?"_

_"You..." she bites her lip, glancing away. "You, um, did a great job learning butterfly stroke today."_

_"Thank you," you say. "It was difficult, but I think I made a lot of progress."_

_Asahina beams. "That's what I love about you, Sakura. You actually accept compliments instead of putting yourself down."_

_"That's very kind...which is what I love about you, actually. The world is a cruel place." You sigh. "Crueler than I ever imagined. But you--you are never cruel." She flushes bright red. A cricket chirrups._

_"There's a hair," she says, scooting towards you. Before you can react, she places her brown hand on your face and gently brushes her thumb across your upper lip. "There was a hair stuck in your lip gloss," she explains. You feel electricity buzzing up and down your vertebrae, glance over and notice her other hand inches away from yours on the concrete. Her eyes are expectant, wary, and you shut your own._

_You close the gap between your lips and hers. The crickets and the pool are suddenly silent, her hand moves over yours and your head and heart are light._

It is odd to you, but you think you miss mortality more than you miss life. You miss the sensation of a thumping heart, adrenaline and fear. You miss the feeling of your soul in a body. Things were simple. They can never be simple like that again. You miss  _her_ , and you know if only you could see her move on that maybe you could too.

She never forgets you.

But if time cannot heal all wounds, it can certainly allow them to fade. It takes her a long time, but she finally notices the way Kirigiri looks at her when they are together. You try not to feel too bitter; you might be jealous, but more than anything you are jubilant that she has found a way to live again. The screens showing the timeline of the living realm begin to broadcast less and less of the time Kirigiri and Asahina spend together (they respect privacy, if nothing else). You cry only once, and with the tears escapes the heaviness you've been feeling all these years.

The boy who left you living on earth is closer now than she is. He inspired you to become who you are. You haven't seen him yet. You think it might be time to find out how he's doing.

 


	2. I'm not going to kill you. Not yet.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a possibly very out of character interpretation of what happened to byakuya togami while he was in captivity. violence and transphobia including slurs up ahead.

"I'm not going to kill you. Not yet."

Byakuya rolls his eyes. He can't even pretend to be threatened by this ragtag band of children, powerful though they may have become, because he is the-- _OW--_

"Wanna make you scream a little first," says the chubby kid who just slapped him across the face. "We'll see how high and mighty you really are, pretty boy."

The words sound so strange, coming from the high register of this pre-pubescent boy, and yet they provoke some apprehension deep in Byakuya's stomach. But he'll be fine. He is an adult among children. They can't actually hurt him. _Right?_

The boy cracks his knuckles. Byakuya shifts his wrists where they are bound behind his back, wondering if there's any way to escape this. "Well, what are we waiting for," the boy says, and like it's a gunshot in a horse race the other children surge forward. There can't be more than six of them, but they look like a stampede, knocking him over facefirst in a matter of seconds. The kick his sides ruthlessly, yank at his hair and drive their feet into his spine. Someone jumps directly onto his legs, which would probably hurt more if he wasn't flat on the ground--but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. Byakuya grinds his teeth, refusing to cry out. The mob is too disorganized, too juvenile to cause any real damage, he can't let them have the satisfaction--and then he hears his shirt rip.

"Take it off!" someone yells, and what seems like hundreds of hands are pulling at the fabric, scrabbling at his back, and Byakuya wishes he was only worried about his expensive clothes being ruined, they're pulling it away in scraps now, oh god oh god oh  _god--_

There is silence for the first time since the riot began. "What...is that?" the boy who seems to be their ringleader asks with a kind of morbid curiosity. He stoops down to stare Byakuya in his grimy face. "What is it?" he asks again harshly. Byakuya glares back silently, funneling every ounce of haughty indifference into his eyes that he can muster.

The boy grabs the bottom edge of Byakuya's chest binder, pulling it up and releasing it so it snaps onto his skin. He flinches. This seems to bolster the confidence of the other children and the chaos resumes, and this time it is so much worse, he has lost his pride and they are kicking bruises and he feels the cold edge of scissors slipping under the cloth on his face. They snip the binder off, leaving a bloody scratch where the blade moved without caution. A girl grabs his hair and drags him up from the ground as the others pull what's left of the binder over his shoulders. He feels the cool air on his chest and knows it is all over.

"It's a  _girl_ ," the ringleader says with a tone of such vehement disgust that Byakuya feels sick to his stomach. He knows he shouldn't care what this commoner child thinks of him but he does,  _does care_ because nobody knows, he has never told a soul and now the first reaction is revulsion, is hatred. He kneels on the ground, paralyzed.

"You didn't tell us it was a tranny," says someone at the back of the crowd.

"I didn't know," says the ringleader. "Guess it shoulda been obvious, though. Look at her face." The boy grabs Byakura's chin and a final wave of rebellion prompts him to kick him in the stomach. As he falls back the others rush forward, shouting as Byakuya tries desperately to run for the door. He doesn't make it. The scissors scrape across his left arm, someone is grabbing him in a chokehold, he is falling backward and his battered knees give out and he loses consciousness blissfully, longing in this moment to sleep forever.

He awakes in a dark room, achy but with no injuries more major than a few bruises and scratches. He is wearing a shirt and is so grateful for the cover that he doesn't even care that it's a cheap cotton tee. One of the children must have had pity on the poor confused _freak girl_. They don't come after him again, for whatever reason. He doesn't see anyone at all until Touko and Komaru show up, except a small girl who brings him food. She smiles like she understands. He hates himself for wishing he could stay so he could talk to her. So he wouldn't be alone. 


End file.
